The Pirates of Deneb
by Woodcrafter
Summary: Traveller fic: Ex-Scout Beecher has been given the unenviable task of tracking down a pirate fleet.  Who's pressuring him for results?  Who isn't.  I own nothing of Traveller it belongs to Mark Miller.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Sometimes I feel like a spider sitting in the middle of my web; not that I've ever seen a spider, but that phrase was part of the heritage of every person of Solomani descent. I often feel like a spider when sitting in the small transparent-walled chamber in the data centre. Computer banks surround me, banks made by different races, different species, even one transported at hideous expense from the other side of the Imperium. Made by that most enigmatic of aliens the Hivers, whose home-world lay beyond the rimward-trailing frontier of imperial space. All these computers using their differing circuits and architecture to answer in their different ways the vital question; what is different, what is unusual, what is a threat?

That's my job. I spend my time checking on things the computers flag up as anomalies, categorising potential threats to this sector of the Imperium using a very slow, unreliable but useful computer; a sentient brain. A sentient brain can have intuition, insights, in short – hunches; and the Imperium relies on people like me getting them right. The hunches I was trying, and failing, to get at the moment, concerned the worst pirate menace to hit the Deneb Sector since the Civil War half a millennium ago.

It was worrying.

I work for the Office of Calendar Compliance, Statistical Division; I'm a civil servant, grade seven. The importance of the job is not reflected in the pay grade, but then people who want to get rich don't enter Imperial service, even the navy who still get prize money. The job does entail being the recipient of a lot of pressure but rarely as much as at present. I was getting pressure from five merchants associations, Tukera Lines, the Imperial Navy, Duke Peter from the planet below and even Archduke Norris himself! The nastiest pressure was coming from Tukera Lines; the most icily polite, and scariest, from His Grace the Duke.

The vid-phone chimed.

I turned to answer and the screen lit up with the image of Bwephulp my secretary.

"Yes?" I asked

"The shuttle carrying the Naval Liaison Officer for your meeting is on final approach, Mr. Beecher." She said, "would you like me to meet him?"

I thought for a moment, Bwephulp wasn't wearing her microtube clothing to keep her skin damp, so she must be at her home in the part of the complex with 85% plus humidity where Bwaps like her feel most comfortable.

"No" I replied, "don't bother to get suited up, I'll go." I said.

"Don't forget your pill" chided Bwephulp gently.

"I won't" I replied. It was a pity that my gopher hadn't returned yet from seeing her third uncle twice decayed or whatever, or she could have met the Liaison Officer and taken him to the briefing room.

oOoOo

I got to the docking bay just as the shuttle was docking. I had checked the file of the officer I was to meet earlier, Flag Lieutenant the Honourable Vincent Igadushta and met him as he came out of the docking bay airlock.

I stuck out my hand; "Thank you for coming Flag Lieutenant."

"You're welcome, Mr Beecher," he replied. If there was the slightest stress on the Mr., I didn't take offence; the navy was smarting badly over their failure to deal with the pirates.

"Please come this way," I gestured, leading the Lieutenant to the transit tube. As the Honourable Vincent didn't want to make small talk I whiled away the journey to the secure briefing room reserved for our meeting by studying him, I hoped, unobtrusively.

He was a tall man, taller than I with the typical bronzed skin tone of mixed Vilani-Solomani ancestry hinted at by his name. Handsome and athletic looking enough that I doubt he had any trouble finding willing partners in whatever liberty port he stopped at. The immaculate naval uniform the Lieutenant wore looked to be made of more luxurious fabric than a strict interpretation of the regulations would allow. The uncompromising solidity of the naval issue secure-comp he was carrying brought me back to the purpose of our meeting.

oOoOo

As soon as the briefing room door closed Lt. Igadushta and I, with almost identical movements, took out our security scanners. After a shared wry grin we studied our respective displays until we were both satisfied that the room was secure.

"Please sit down Lieutenant," I gestured to a chair while sitting down across the table from him.

"Tell me Mr. Beecher," he said "what do you know about piracy?"

"I know that it isn't like the tri-vids." I replied. I knew more than that, of course, but I reckoned that I'd get more cooperation from Lt. Igadushta if I let him feel superior to me.

"I'll begin by running through the basics" said the Lieutenant in a rather patronising tone I thought.

"As you know," the Lieutenant continued, "starships enter jump-space and can travel one to six parsecs* in 168 hours plus or minus 10%."

I remembered my first venture into jump-space on my way to scout training after induction. I was scared, exhilarated and downright curious as to what would happen. Nothing happened. The ship entered jump-space smoothly and indetectably; so much for youthful enthusiasm. My attention continued to wander as Igadushta droned on. I didn't bother to tell him that I'd served more than twenty years in the scouts before being invalided out after my last mission. I took out and polished some of the choicer memories of that time while the Lieutenant continued his lecture . . .

Occasional phrases of his interrupted my reverie. Yes I knew that safe jumps had to be done at greater than 100 diameters from any object with significant mass and hence gravity. Only sometimes Lieutenant the Honourable Igadushta, you have to jump when you can, even if you _are_ within 100 diameters, particularly when you are plunging towards a gas giant planet and your manoeuvre drive has failed. Oh yes, Lieutenant sometimes a star's 100 diameter limit can intersect the path your ship takes through that weird mathematical conundrum that is jump space. And if a solar flare distorts a star's 100 diameter bubble your ship can fall out of jump-space unexpectedly with such a shock that the gravity dampers can fail, you get a broken arm and your best friend gets a broken neck! Be careful by all means Lieutenant.

"So you see, Mr Beecher" continued Lt. Igadushta "with all the uncertainties of arrival it's relatively simple for a pirate to lie in wait for a merchantman to arrive, threaten with his superior weaponry, board and seize the cargo."

Ah, you're getting to the gist of the matter now Lieutenant.

_*A/N A parsec is approximately 3¼ light-years. Jump one travels one parsec, jump two two parsecs and so on up to six parsecs._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

I thought it was about time I indicated some glimmer of intellect before Lt. Igadushta patted me on the head and gave me a dog biscuit. I briefly wondered if he did that to deserving Vargr* ratings? Breaking into the Lieutenants monologue I said,

"I assume that unless the pirates have stolen something to order for immediate delivery, they have to then take their loot somewhere safe and store it until they find a buyer."

"Ah, yes, quite." Lt. Igadushta replied, slightly flummoxed I thought, grinning to myself.

"And that is the problem" he continued, "just where do they store their er loot; where do they repair damage to their ships, we have confirmed at least twelve of them?"

"The Imperial Navy hasn't been able to discover the pirate base." I made it a comment, not a question.

"No" said the Lieutenant, and stopped. Good grief! A monosyllable, the navy _must_ be smarting.

"Nor have the colonial navy squadrons, nor the huscarle ships of the local nobles." He continued, spreading the blame around pretty evenly, I thought. "Even the scouts drew a blank." Thanks, I thought, leaving us till last, typical navy man.

"Refuelling isn't a problem for the pirates. Pirate ships are invariably streamlined and they can skim the atmospheres of gas-giant planets for hydrogen fuel." Lt. Igadusha was lecturing again.

"It is confirmed then that it's one group of pirates causing all the trouble?" I queried.

"Yes," Lt. Igadushta replied. "They call themselves the Flayer Fleet"

"Rather melodramatic." I said.

"It's a reference to a notorious pirate on pre-spaceflight Vland." Said the Lieutenant. "He was known as _Gukiimersugin_ which translates roughly into Galanglic as _The Flayer._ Several reports speak of the old Vilani pirate symbol the Flaming Eye displayed on the pirate ships." Now that I didn't know.

The Lieutenant manipulated the holo panel on his secure-comp and the meeting room table projected a holo-image of the Domain of Deneb.

"Here" Lt. Igadushta said, brightening a number of points in the display "are the locations of confirmed Flaming Fleet attacks. These" he said, brightening others, "are the locations of suspected Flaming Fleet attacks. Making an irregular bulge pointing at the heart of Deneb sector." That confirmed my existing data. A pity there isn't a faster than light equivalent of radio; information from another sector is weeks out of date, even travelling by fast ship. Hell, messages from the other side of the Imperium could be _years_ out of date.

"There's no obvious centre to the attacks" I observed.

"No" replied Lt. Igadushta, "and they extend to the edge of the Great Rift¹."

"The base could be anywhere in that area" I said, "that's more than three dozen systems."

"It could equally be outside that area" the Lieutenant pointed out. "Even inside the area there are more than 200 planets and moons, many of them not adequately surveyed. That's excluding large asteroids and Kuiper Belt Objects²."

"It's utterly impossible to search all that." I said.

"Quite." The Lieutenant said, with a rather tight smile.

"It's also rather fruitless to chase individual pirate ships" continued Lt. Igadushta, "as they can microjump to the outer system, refuel from a Kuiper Belt Object with fuel processors and jump elsewhere. Unless the chasing ship gets a lucky hit and puts the pirate's jump drive out of commission."

"Jumping into the outer system is pretty chancy unless the pirates have a rutter." I pointed out

"A rutter?" the Lieutenant looked puzzled.

"It's a slang term Lieutenant." I said. "Naval and scout ships have huge data-banks with all known astrogational information for their operational area in them; it's one reason we use such huge and expensive computers."

"Yes, I know that" said Lt. Igadushta sounding somewhat snippy. There, how do you like being lectured at, you bastard.

"But merchant ships don't." I replied. "They either purchase a pre-calculated jump course to the next starport, only valid for a certain time or they use a cut-down astrogational programme using limited data. That's why merchant ships plot such time consuming courses, they have to play it safe. A rutter is a computer programme with precise data on planetary movements enabling much more efficient course plotting. There's a black market for them, but canny skippers, or pirates, keep them secret."

"Unfortunately the Flayer Fleet appears to have a most comprehensive rutter." Snapped the Lieutenant.

"Have any of the Flayer Fleet been captured?" I thought it time to change the subject.

"Yes, the report arrived by the last courier ship" said Lt. Igadushta. "A naval Q-ship disguised as an ordinary merchant captured the pirate boarding party. The pirate ship managed to escape though."

"What did the interrogation reveal?" I asked. This could be a breakthrough.

"First of all, it revealed that the pirates, hardened scum though they are, are more afraid of their leader, he's called Admiral _Gukiimersugin_, than they are of us." Said the Lieutenant. "It seems that the Admiral takes after his namesake, one unfortunate who tried to betray the group was flayed alive and then shoved out of the airlock!"

"Pleasant chap" I replied.

"All of the captured pirates had been to the base, but none of them knew where it was," Lt. Igadushta continued. "After intensive chemical interrogation all we could discover was that the base was underground on an airless world, with gravity substantially less than standard. The group itself is mixed; mostly human and Vargr with a scattering of others, about 200 in total. We did get a full listing of the pirate fleet."

"Excellent!" This would give me a chance of checking the estimates my department had come up with.

Lt. Igadushta projected the pirate fleet list above the table.

"Ah, good. We were certain of the identities of eight ships and estimated that there might be about a dozen." I said. The Lieutenant looked chagrined, the eight were bang on the nose and there were a total of twelve ships.

_A/N* Vargr are uplifted Terran canines who were genetically manipulated in the far distant past by the mysterious and extinct race the Ancients.  
><em>

_A/N__¹ The Great Rift is an area of very few stars cutting off the Domain of Deneb from the rest of the Third Imperium. Spinward Marches sector and Deneb sector are both part of the Domain of Deneb._

_A/N² Our solar system's Kuiper Belt lies outside the orbit of Neptune. Pluto and Eris are among the unknown number of objects to be found there. I'm assuming that just about all systems will have something similar._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

When the Lieutenant had left, I pondered on the list of ships and on his last comment. "One odd thing though, all the human officers are Vilani."

The ships ranged from the flagship, an 800 ton Vargr Frigate of Jump four, three gravities acceleration and eight weapon turrets; to the two 200 ton Avian class Far Traders of two Jump two, two gravities and two weapon turrets. In between was an eclectic selection.

They were not all imperial made either, the third largest was also Vargr made, a Corsair; between it and the flagship was a human-made Corsair, the Avenger class. It was a quite new design and had supposedly been designed for trade prospecting. With two Jump twos and being fully aerodyne it had a range and versatility outstanding in its size class. One piece of data I already had was that the flagship was often seen in company with a 400 ton Gazelle class escort. Indeed this pair had defeated a convoy with escort, leaving a patrol cruiser crippled beyond repair with only two survivors from its crew. These Flayers were bold devils. The rest of the fleet comprised:

A Star class Armoured Merchant 300tons J3M1 three hardpoints.

A type P Corsair 400tons J2M3 four hardpoints.

And two Vargr merchant ships whose specifications were not fully known.

They were thumbing their collective nose at the Imperial Government, and it was my responsibility to stop them. The base was the key, find that and without the security it provided for rest and repair the pirates could be hunted down and destroyed.

My thoughts were interrupted by the entrance of Krystal DuVallier my gopher, oh sorry, personal organisational expediter. She was a native Denebian, part of the highport employment quota the Deneb government insisted on. Krystal was a distant relative of a high muck-a-muck in the government's bureaucracy; just an ordinary case of nepotism.

Krystal was a tall, leggy, er pneumatic blond; with about the intelligence of a pet cat. The eyes may have been open but nobody was home. Poor girl, she was about as much use to me as an extra foot. So that's what I used her for, to run errands for me; as she could go where I, (with my shattered immune system courtesy of my last scout mission) could not. She was dressed in the height of Denebian fashion and the depths of taste.

"I've brought the data from your newt Mr. Beecher." Said Krystal

"Her name is Bwephulp, Ms. DuVallier, and she's a Bwap, **not** a newt!" I replied. I hated the casual racism of so many of the native Denebians. Good grief, Bwaps are the second most common race in the Imperium after Humaniti. Of course, being a species of natural bureaucrats doesn't **endear** them to most people, but that's no excuse for racism. Oh well, at least Krystal didn't call Bwephulp a _towelhead. _

After sending Krystal off on another errand, I headed back to my office; my medication would be wearing off soon.

Leaning back in my office chair I reviewed the data Bwephulp had sent me. She could compile, tabulate, integrate and display data better than anyone I had ever come across, but she could no more draw a conclusion than fly. With the addition of the naval data Lt. Igadushta had brought, this was the sum total of everything the Imperium knew about the Flayer Pirates. The answer **had** to be in there. Didn't it?

Bwephulp had suggested that she take two pirate ships as exemplars and charted their courses of destruction. She was trying to see if any thing could be learnt by tracking those ships backwards in a space-time matrix; to see if both ships may have started from a common point. However I looked at the data, they did not. One thing did stand out though, both ships courses seem to be coming from the Rift. The Rift?

The Rift. According to the AAB encyclopaedia, a rift is 'a region of very low stellar density'; in other words there aren't many stars there. Which means almost no systems, no planets, no gas-giants and no way of refuelling your ship if your navigation slips up and you end up in it. The Rift here is properly called the Great Rift, as it's far too wide for even the highest jump rated ship to cross and cuts across a huge swath of charted space. For all spacefarers stars mean places where you can hope to find help and succour if things go wrong. The blackness of the Great Rift meant only a cold, lonely death.

I typed out a query for the computer, give me all reports from a year before the pirate menace started until now, from four parsecs of the 'edge of the rift' as defined on standard mapping charts. I included my security clearance to mean **all** reports. The Office of Calendar Compliance has very wide-ranging powers if we choose to call on them, and this was one of those times.

Taking the data-crystal back to my quarters I started the tedious task of going through all the reports. I was looking for something not right, offbeat, wacky. Bwephulp couldn't help me with this, for her, wacky would be a mistake in the wording of a 48 page form.

oOoOo

I glanced at the clock, it was 03:19 hrs; I had been searching for 10 hours straight and found nothing helpful. Plenty of strange stuff; like the pilot who had over-ridden the computer and the warnings that he had not activated the manoeuvre drive, before retracting his ship's landing struts causing it to crash onto the landing bay floor. Strange but not wacky, just ordinary human stupidity. Or a crewman's momentary inattention that had allowed a male _pandithon_ to get out of a ship's cargo bay before the animal transporter had arrived. Unfortunately the logo on a cargo container stacked in the bay awaiting loading, looked sufficiently similar to the pattern on male _pandithons' _crests to send the escaped animal into a mating fight. That **was** weird, but not helpfully so.

A name on a report caught my eye, Indira Jones, another ex-scout. I remembered her from my time in the service, far more interested in vanished civilisations than extant ones. Made some cash after she mustered out and spends her time searching for ruins and things. Indira as an ex-scout, still on the reserve list, had sent in a routine report of anomalous recent activity which 'looked to be evidence of field repairs to a starship' on a world **that wasn't on the standard charts!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Feverishly I brought up the secure database index and searched for all references to the co-ordinates in Indira's report. It took awhile as the data was in the 'historical-inactive' archive, rarely consulted and stored in obsolescent data banks. How had Mad Indira got access to this highly classified info that I'd never even heard of? Wait a minute, didn't she win an Imperial Science Prize for her work on the Ancients? Yes, that must be it. Ah, here are the files.

They were old, very old. They dated back to the second century after the founding of the Vilani Imperium, almost five thousand years ago.

The files came from the log of a Vilani scout mapping mission. They were searching for brown dwarfs¹ in the hope that they might lead to a jump-route back through the Great Rift. The expedition found two brown dwarfs; the one that Indira had investigated and one other. Further investigations had showed that neither of the worlds facilitated venturing deeper into the rift. The Vilani had classified both worlds _shinigemkasdish; _roughly 'world of no value whose existence must be concealed'. The Vilani kept the existence of brown dwarfs from the general population in order to control where they went; the current Imperium kept the positions of most brown dwarfs secret for the same reason.

The pirate base had to be one of those two systems and they were only a few parsecs from Deneb! The cheek of those devils. I turned to the vid-comm.

"Bwephulp, get me a meeting with Flag Lt. Igadushta immediately!" her face, skin shining with moisture and eyes blinking rapidly appeared on the screen.

"You realise that his mood will be less than optimal at this hour, Mr. Beecher" she replied, seemingly with no loss of efficiency from her recent awakening.

"I find I can face that eventuality with equanimity, Bwephulp" I cleared the comm screen and called up the vehicle pool,

"This is Beecher. Have a gig readied for me at once" I only half heard the affirmative reply as I was busy donning my light duty space suit. It would protect me for a while in the unlikely event the gig lost pressure, and it would also keep my non-immune system away from people without being too cumbersome.

oOoOo

I used the trip to marshal my thoughts into some kind of order and to relax a bit. My gig's computer was following the course laid out for it by Orbital Traffic Control and I needed to do nothing, although I checked the instruments from time to time. This gave me the opportunity of looking down at Deneb, onto the night side. The land-masses were outlined and partially filled with light and there were dots of light here and there in the oceans marking the position of floating and ship cities. Five billion people sure make a lot of light! The part of the moon I could see was in daylight phase now and I couldn't see the cities on its surface but I knew they were there, housing some of the one billion Denebians who lived elsewhere in the system than the main planet.

As I circled Deneb I came over the day side and saw the planet in all its beautiful colours; the blue ocean and the white clouds, the tans and greens of the land and, just visible, the brilliant white of the planet's north polar ice cap. A shining reflection from ahead of me announced my approach to the orbital naval base where Lt. Igadushta was waiting for me. I didn't know his duty cycle but I rather hoped he'd been asleep when Bwephulp's call came in.

oOoOo

"You expect me to go to the Admiral with **this**?" Lt. Igadushta almost shouted.

"Yes," I replied sounding calmer than I felt.

"All you have is conjecture and coincidence." The Lieutenant sneered.

"Together with logical deduction and evidence, albeit circumstantial." This buffoon was starting to get on my nerves.

"The Imperial Navy isn't about to deploy fleet assets on the wild conjectures of a **civilian**" Lt. Igadushta's voice dripped scorn.

"That isn't your call to make, **Lieutenant**"

"Do you realise who you're talking to? I am a member of the Imperial Nobility!" The Lieutenant's voice had raised in pitch as well as volume.

Only just nobility, I thought. An 'honourable' doesn't really carry much weight.

"Do **you** realise who **you** are . . ." I stopped. He probably didn't. There was no point in arguing further. I went towards the door and opened it. There were quite a few people in the corridor, not surprising on such an important base as Arbellatra Naval Station. I caught sight of a high ranking marine NCO.

"Gunny." He stiffened instinctively at the tone of my voice. "I am James Beecher of the Office of Calendar Compliance. My respects to Admiral Chang, and I request a meeting at his earliest convenience." The Gunny almost saluted, indeed he might have done if I hadn't still been wearing my light duty space suit and he went off at a jog. I turned back to Lt. Igadushta who was still seated at the table. His mouth was open in outraged disbelief giving him the look of a stuffed fish.

Shortly thereafter Admiral Chang's deeply lined face appeared on the room's viewscreen.

"Please come up Mr. Beecher. I am in my day-cabin." Said the Admiral.

"Yes sir." I replied. Turning to Igadushta I said "Come on Lieutenant, you might learn something."

Igadushta was silent as we rode the transit tube to Admiral Chang's quarters. The Admiral had a somewhat unusual background I recalled. Although his father had been a decorated naval captain and had been knighted, he had not been raised to the hereditary nobility. As a youngster Admiral Chang had had to work his way up without noble influence on his side. His star had risen as one of the supporters of Duke Norris, as he then was, when Norris had relieved Grand Admiral Santanocheev of his command and started winning the Fifth Frontier War.

Admiral Chang was waiting for us as his marine guard opened the door. The Admiral returned Lt. Igadushta's salute and then held out his hand to me.

"James" he said with the ghost of a smile "it's been awhile."

"It has Admiral" I replied shaking his hand. "Sorry about the suit."

"I heard about that. A tough last mission, I understand." Admiral Chang went back to his desk. "Come in, both of you."

"I didn't know you knew Mr. Beecher, Admiral" Was that a note of disapproval in Igadushta's voice?

"Beecher was chief pilot in the scout squadron assigned to my staff during the Fifth Frontier War, Lieutenant." Said Admiral Chang.

Igadushta turned to me.

"Why didn't you tell me that you knew when I was explaining jump travel to you!"

"You were having so much fun I didn't want to disturb you." The Lieutenant's face turned a shade of red that clashed delightfully with his uniform.

"Now James" the Admiral was all business. "Tell me what you've discovered."

_¹A/N A brown dwarf is a 'failed star' not quite massive enough to start nuclear fusion. They are difficult to detect. They do produce heat however by gravitational contraction._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Admiral Chang read through my report quickly; his eyebrows went up once or twice and once he chuckled. I bet that was over Mad Indira. "Lt. Igadushta," he said "my complements to the Commanding Officers of all Imperial Navy vessels at the base and I will see them in the Situation Room in one hour. Thank you James, I'll talk to you later." We both left.

oOoOo

I jumped (pardon the pun), at the chance Admiral Chang gave me to accompany him in his flagship with one of the two Task Forces going to destroy the pirate base. Unfortunately Flag Lieutenant The Honourable Igasdushta was coming too; oh well, it was his job after all.

The composition of the two task forces was rather . . . mixed. In the holo-vids squadrons of sleek Imperial warships are ordered out to hurl themselves against the foe. In reality Admiral Chang had to make do with whatever ships he had to hand. Most large Imperial Navy fleet assets are concentrated to coreward facing the fractured Vargr Extents; which are a patchwork of ever changing statelets and shifting alliances. The majority of the remaining naval assets are out conducting anti-piracy sweeps. At least the admiral didn't have to worry about protecting the Deneb system. It had its own fleet of system defence vessels paid for by the planetary government. These vessels had no jump engines and couldn't leave the system but they made up for it by filling the space that would have been occupied by jump engines and jump fuel with weapons, armour and powerful manoeuvre drives. Even the entire Flayer Fleet would avoid Deneb like the plague.

oOoOo

Admiral Chang's day cabin was much smaller than the one in Arbellatra Station.

"I'm glad you're on board James." He said. His plain naval uniform was looking rumpled. I doubt he'd slept much.

"The situation we find ourselves in is most unusual for the navy." Admiral Chang continued, "Normally we know the details of the planetary systems we are jumping into, thanks to the scouts." He nodded his head to me, "but this time we know almost nothing so any insights you have will be welcome."

"Indira did include some system data in her report, typical ex-scout." I grinned. "I think it was a wise choice sending the second task force to that system."

"It's under Rear-Admiral Palalag." Admiral Chang said.

"She was a junior Captain during the war. A good officer." I replied

"Yes. She's a protégé of mine." The admiral continued. "Now, what can you tell me about unknown brown-dwarf systems like the one we are going to?"

"There won't be any gas giant planets as the dynamics of system formation prevent that. That's one of the reasons that Indira went to the other system; it has a gas giant, and it shouldn't" I said. "There will be half-a-dozen or less planets and they will be rocky and probably small. The Kuiper Belt will be proportionally much further out than a normal system."

"If this system is the pirate base" Admiral Chang pondered, "there must be a source of hydrogen fuel. Could they skim it from the brown-dwarf itself as its surface temperature is low?"

"Impossible Admiral. The surface temperature isn't the problem, it's the surface gravity. That will be anywhere from 30 to 300 gravities. No known ship could even approach, not even a special robot job."

"Where do you think the fuel comes from then, James?"

"The prisoners said that when they went from their ships to the base, the ground was dusty not icy and that they didn't see the star. I think that the base is on the world closest to the brown-dwarf, so close that it's tidally locked and so one half of the world is always in shadow. Over millions of years ices will accumulate in the shadow and they can be refined for hydrogen. The base will be near a deposit of ice."

"Thank you James" the Admiral said, "I'm calling a vid-conference with the commanding officers of the task force in 30 minutes. I'd like you to attend."

As there wasn't time to return to the quarters I'd been assigned, I went to an observation blister and looked out at the ships accompanying us. There were only two of them; the _Springer_ an escort of the Gazelle class of which the pirates had one and the _Anger_, a Fury class escort similar to the Gazelle class but fully streamlined and able to perform well in an atmosphere. The flagship was a gigantic but obsolete battleship of the Dictator class, the _Castro_, interrupted in her journey to the breakers yard for a final voyage in imperial service.

I arrived at the briefing room just after Captain DuToit, the _Castro's_ commander and went to the seat indicated by Flag Lt. Igadushta. Admiral Chang entered from a side door and we all stood. After gesturing us to our seats, the Admiral nodded to Igadushta who touched a control and two holograms sprang into life over the table; one human, one Vargr.

"Lt. Datoerr, commander of the _Springer_ and Sub-Lt. Lakmamar, commander of the _Anger_." Admiral Chang introduced the newcomers, "this is Captain DuToit of the _Castro_, Flag Lt. Igadushta my aide and Mr Beecher my advisor. Gentlemen, I know you have just come off patrol and had little time to prepare for this mission. What is the condition of your ships?"

"Combat effective, sir." Replied the Vargr Lieutenant, "there is an intermittent fault on the starboard turret. We will continue to search for the cause while enroute in jumpspace." That was a job I didn't envy. One normally exited the ship only in the direst of emergencies while in jump. Anything that punctured the jump field bubble would just dissolve into the otherness of jump space.

"Fully combat ready, sir." Said Sub-Lt. Lakmamar, "our only problem is that the washing machine's thrown some kind of a fit.¹" Our laughter eased the tension in the room. The tension returned with Captain DuToit's next words.

"Minimally mission capable, Admiral."

"If you'd be kind enough to give us the details Captain." Said Admiral Chang gravely.

"As I had already explained to you sir, the ship's main weapon, the spinal meson cannon had been dismantled to provide spare parts for the Deneb system defence fleet. However the removal of that much mass allows her a maximum of 4.7 gravities acceleration in dire emergencies. She's an old ship, sir." The Captain felt a need to come to the defence of his ship.

"I know Captain," said the Admiral, "my grandfather served aboard her sister ship _Stalin_ in the Solomani Rim Campaign. Forgive the interruption, do go on."

"Yes, sir" replied the Captain.

As Captain DuToit resumed his litany of woes that his old ship suffered from, I realised that if the whole Flayer Fleet were there the battle might be a damned close run thing.

_A/N¹ My apologies to Alistair Maclean and his novel 'Ice Station Zebra'._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

It's often said that being in jump space is incredibly boring. One week cut off from everything, in your own little bubble of normality, bobbing along in the bizarreness of jump space. There's literally nothing to see in jump space and you have to get along with your fellows with no outside influences or distractions. As a passenger the crew will make every effort, provided it comes to less than the cost of your ticket, to keep you amused. Crewmembers take advantage of the time to do routine maintenance, but even so full time spacers take up some kind of hobby to while away those 168 hours without going mad.

This trip was different. The entire crew was feverishly at work repairing, cannibalising and jury-rigging systems to get _Castro_ in the best shape possible for the forthcoming battle. I offered to help before I was drafted into it, but I have to confess to feeling very guilty over the relief I felt at being ordered, on pain of being flung into the brig, **not** to assist in work on the hull surface. Admiral Chang not being about to lose his planetary system advisor.

Fortunately we didn't lose anyone to jump space. The sick-bay was kept busy however dealing with minor cuts and abrasions. Those with broken bones were filled full of quick-heal and sent back to work next day. The potential future side-effects being of small moment in our predicament.

Twenty four hours before our estimated arrival time (bearing in mind we could be up to sixteen hours early), the Captain put the crew back on normal watches to give them time to rest. I couldn't sleep; my brain was tired, but my body wasn't. I'd been spending some time with Admiral Chang and Captain DuToit wrestling with computer simulations of possible arrangements of the unknown system we were going to. I wandered down to the Officers Mess.

As I entered I could see that a brave attempt had been made to make the room inviting and a place to relax in. There were fabric wall hangings, 'native art' from planets visited by the ship's officers and a trophy head mounted on one bulkhead. I'd never seen the creature before and with the number of horns it possessed I wasn't keen on meeting a live one. Most of the chairs were standard navy issue 'chairs, lounging, officers pattern'. Ergonomically designed for the average biped; which meant that they were equally uncomfortable whatever your species. From the eclectic variety of cushions the chairs bore each officer had personalised his chair for individuality as well as an attempt at comfort. The different shapes, colours and designs clashed horribly but the room seemed more homelike for that. One cushion must be a souvenir of Deneb, at least it was in the same colours and random spiral patterns that Krystal considered high fashion. I wouldn't team puce with parma violet myself but everyone's taste differs. The silver sparkly bits were just grotesque though.

The half dozen officers who were present were as varied in dress as their room's décor. Some were in uniform, others whose next duty was some time away using the traditional informality of the mess to wear a startling variety of costumes. One of them I assumed was the owner of the cushion as she was wearing the latest fashion freak from Deneb, the trouser skirt. One leg encased in tight legging the other in a much pleated culotte type skirt. I didn't think it went with the nipple guards.

A light furred Vargr officer in a stylish blue kaftan was sitting on his, I presume, favourite chair as it had a cushion with horrible purple, orange and lime green stripes. What humans saw as garish and clashing, Vargr, with their more limited colour sense, saw as pleasingly mellow. "Mr. Beecher" he said, "why are you wearing that environment suit?" I saw the other officers wince slightly but I took no offence as Vargr are proverbial for their lack of what we humans think of as tact. I realised that I must be creeping him out a great deal as Vargr use their phenomenal sense of smell to pick up emotional cues that humans use body-language for which would be visible through my light suit.

I looked around the group and said "That's a long story. Mind if I join you?" I was quickly asked to do so; story telling in jump space is a long established spacer tradition going back to the days of the Vilani Imperium.

"I was part of a scout mission to the planet Enaaka¹; has anyone heard of it?" I asked.

"It's called The Fungus World, isn't it?" replied the young lady with the trouser skirt.

"That's right" I continued, "It has over 700 different classes of fungi, compared with Deneb's six². There are millions of known species and it's certain that we've only seen the tip of the iceberg, as much of the surface has only been mapped from orbit. Many species are valuable, many others are very dangerous and some fatal. The mission I was on was . . . . you don't have the clearance . . . ."

"We all have Blue level clearances" said one of the male officers.

"Sorry" I replied, "I don't think any of you have Imperial Interstellar Scout Service clearances. What I can tell you is that there have been rumours of existing remains from the first unsuccessful Vilani colonisation attempt. The mission I was on was attempting to find if there was any truth in those rumours."

"Is there?" several voices spoke at once.

"Sorry, that's classified." I replied.

"That means there is" asserted the Vargr.

"You might very well say so" I said, with a touch of smugness, "I couldn't possibly comment. In any case, the teams were doing a grid search in an area that the sensors had indicated as anomalous. Daylight on Enaaka is rather dim as there is almost always total cloud cover except at the poles. There's almost no axial tilt so there aren't any seasons, the sun is a hot one, the temperature and humidity are pretty fierce and there is a drizzle of rain most of the time in the forest. The total cloud cover evens out the temperature between latitudes as well as by day and night. Some of the fungi are tree analogues and the tallest can grow up to 30 metres so it's pretty shady under the forest canopy and most of the land surface is forested. That makes overflight useless for searching so we used crawlers for travel and most searching had to be done on foot. The prevalent colours are blues and greys but there are patches and splashes of vivid exotic colours almost everywhere you look. One type of groundcover fungus called _Shimmerfoot_ by the locals, it gives off flashes of wonderful bioluminescence when it's walked on. All the teams were wearing full-pressure suits with life-support packs so we were completely protected from the local environment. Much to the amusement and derision of the locals who wear filter masks with goggles to keep out the fungus spores and moisture-repellent clothing. There must have been a pothole or something that was concealed by the ground cover fungus. I stumbled and half-fell onto a patch of ghastly purple coloured stuff growing on a fungus-tree trunk. When I looked down and noticed that where the purple stuff was in contact with my suit, my suit was dissolving, I felt a certain amount of concern. That's scout code for 'I was scared spitless.'" I explained as the young officers chucked. "I'm sure there was a slight shaking to my voice" I continued, "as I screamed SUIT BREACH at the top of my lungs. My team-mates rushed up, scraped the purple crud off my suit and sprayed the exposed skin with fungicide. I wasn't taking as much notice as I should have been as the dark red lines that appeared under my skin were hurting a great deal and spreading at an alarming rate. They called down a shuttle from our orbiting survey craft on the double but I was unconscious when it arrived. I learnt later that the ship's doc had taken one look at me and slipped me into an emergency freezer capsule as fast as he could. For the entire trip to a base hospital I was frozen in suspended animation. I spent over a year in hospital and although I was cured my immune system is shot."

"Snarf!" said the Vargr "That's rot-scented luck."

"Do you have to wear that suit whenever you meet someone?" the female officer asked.

"If I'm only going to meet a few people, I can cope with pills" I said "on _Castro_ or _Arbellatra Station_ I thought I'd be on the safe side and wear the suit. A couple of years ago I spent another three months in hospital recovering from a disease normally confined to a species of Denebian house-plant. Now as I've told you the story of my life, lady and gentlemen, perhaps you'd be good enough to introduce yourselves."

_A/N¹ The planet Enaaka was detailed by William H. Keith, Jr. in the first issue of the excellent but sadly now defunct, MegaTraveller Journal. Thank you Mr. Keith._

_A/N² For comparison Earth has eight classes of Eumycetes._


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

I wasn't surprised that the officers knew my name, they would have got that through scuttlebutt, but I wanted to know a little more about them.

"Oh, sorry" said the girl "I'm Lady Isabelle von Krueitz, I'm a gunnery Sub-Lieutenant." She was 19 or so, medium height, athletic build, with somewhat tanned skin, short fair hair and blue eyes. The only thing stopping her from looking like a fashion model was her classical nose, which had been broken sometime previously. With the ease and availability of current cosmetic surgery, I wondered if she'd kept the nose to mark out her uniqueness. "The furry gentleman next to me is Ingghe Uniksae an engineering Lieutenant" continued Lady Isabelle. He was young, tall for a Vargr, about average height for a human; he had a lean muscular build, pale, almost cream fur and with a touch of _Gvegh_ accent in his speech. His tail wagged.

"I" said a uniformed officer, pulling a monocle out of a pocket, polishing it and popping it into his eye "have the dubious honour of introducing myself as Lt. Khuli Ikarsi, an ornament to the Command branch of His Imperial Majesty's Glorious Navy; or is that His Glorious Majesty's Imperial Navy. I never can remember."

"This buffoon" said Lady Isabelle amicably, "is an Authenticist who has chosen to model himself on a Terran literary character called Bertie Wooster. When he dresses up he actually looks rather dapper. The monocle is an affectation, it's optically flat; he has perfect eyesight."

"Isabelle, you're being a bit of a bounder" said Lt. Ikarsi, "givin' away my trade secrets doncherno." The Lieutenant was young, tall, slim, dark haired and fair skinned, the hair being slicked back over his head giving him a most unusual look. There were fine laughter lines beside his eyes. Lady Isabelle then turned to a well-built, thickset, very dark skinned older man who had sat quietly, listening intently to my story.

"This is Lt. John Smith" Lady Isabelle began, "no, really, that's his name" she must have seen the doubt in my expression. "He's in Engineering too" continued Lady Isabelle, "and what he doesn't know about gravitics isn't worth knowing." I looked at Lt. Smith with new respect; it seemed that he must have made the difficult leap from a warranted Petty Officer enlisted man to holding an Imperial Commission as a Lieutenant. One of the two men who had been pretending to play chess while listening to my story, now spoke up.

"If you spad-heads will keep quiet, perhaps we can concentrate better on our game."

Lady Isabelle continued, not in the least abashed, "The snippy gentleman who just so rudely addressed us" her sunny smile took any sting out of this comment, "is Sub-Lt. Piotr Ganushiim of the Command branch and his silent partner is Sub-Lt. Ernesto Singh who is, Emperor Strephon preserve us, of the Flight branch who steer the _Castro_ as well as pilot any ships boats. Though what the poor old girl has done to deserve being flung about by that brute escapes me."

Sub-Lt. Singh retorted by sticking his tongue out, making him look absurdly young. They were all, apart from Lt. Smith, so very, very young. About as young as my children would have been, had I had any. I had been married so I wasn't the loner scout of popular fiction. I had wanted children, she hadn't, our respective careers meant we didn't see a lot of each other so we went our separate ways; not a good thought to dwell on.

"Excuse me; spad-head?" I addressed the query to the group I was sitting with, leaving the chess players to continue their game.

"Navy slang, old boy" drawled Lt. Ikarsi, "Spad is the colloquial name given to a root vegetable discovered on one of the early interstellar expeditions from Vland. It's got a proper Vilani name of course but no-one can be bothered to remember it. It can be prepared in numerous ways or even eaten raw, unlike the flora and fauna of Vland. However it's prepared though it tastes of bland nothingness. Inevitably the Vilani bureaucracy made it a staple food of their navy. Immutable tradition has kept it there. Don't the scouts have to eat it then?"

"No, I'm very glad to say" I responded, "Although if anyone suggested it I can imagine enraged scouts threatening to eat the person responsible. If that's what I think it is, the only use scouts have for it is to brew hootch out of it."

I reckoned that the 'spad root' of the navy was the scouts 'spade root' due to its shape when raw. It was a useful source of carbohydrates and it was normally issued dried and ground as flour which stores well on long scout voyages. We always added strong flavourings to it. I wondered why the navy didn't.

The mess door opened and in walked Flag Lt. The Honourable Vincent Igadushta. Oh no, what does he want now? The Lieutenant nodded to the other officers, rather uncomfortably I thought and went to the small bar. I suddenly felt a wave of sympathy for Lt. Igadushta, although he spent most of his time with command and Flag officers, he wasn't one himself, and he wasn't really one of the crew either. He must be a very lonely young man. I turned to the Lieutenant who had got his drink from the robo-tender and was nursing his glass gazing into the middle distance. "Join us Lieutenant" I made it a statement not a question. My companions gave me looks indicating various degrees of disapprobation as Lt. Igadushta joined us.

"I am sure that we will find your scout expertise very useful in the coming mission." Said Lt. Igadushta, looking rather uncomfortable in our company.

"I hope not" growled Lt. Uniksae, "as that is likely to mean that the old _Castro_ has misjumped and we're in the middle of the Great Rift!" Lt. Igadushta now looked even more uncomfortable. "Mr. Beecher" the Vargr Lieutenant continued, turning to me, "have you ever been in a naval battle?" The other young officers looked embarrassed but relieved that someone had asked the question that they all wanted to. The question that they really meant was 'how does one cope with being in a battle'.

"None of you have?" I asked

"I have" replied Lt. Smith "but not as an officer." No-one else spoke.

"I was in quite a few during the war" I said "the difficult part is looking calm during the waiting; once the firing starts you're usually far too busy to be scared."

"Were you scared sir?" asked Lady Isabelle

"Terrified, every time" I replied "and you needn't call me sir. You're always terrified, but it does get easier to deal with it." For all his apparent self-assurance, Lt. Igadushta was hanging on my words as much as any of the other young officers.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

We were all watching the clock. The clock that counted down the time to estimated exit from jump-space. Estimated. That word hung in all our minds. We all knew that 90% of all jumps finish within about two hours of estimated time either way. The figures go up until only a minute fraction of all jumps last longer than about 16 hours either way. Then there are the strange ones; the ones like _Belerophon_. She had jumped from Regina on a routine three parsec jump to Roup. By the Imperial calendar she exited jump-space nine days later, much longer than the usual seven; but the ship that came out of jump was a decaying hulk. Forensic tests on the remains of the ship and the bones of her crew showed that, for them, more than four thousand years had passed. The cause of this tragedy was never determined; so we watched the clock, and waited.

I was doing my waiting on the Flag Bridge with Admiral Chang and Flag Lt. Igadushta. All Imperial Navy ships exit jump-space on alert status so we were all strapped into our stations and wearing pressure suits. One view screen displayed the Bridge where Captain DuToit and his bridge crew were at their stations; another displayed the formless grey nothingness of jump-space. The clock display ticked down towards zero; reached it and continued. Now marking the time after estimated time of jump. We waited.

"Captain" said one of the bridge crew, "electro-magnetic surge detected ahead."

"Confirmed, and increasing" said another. We all breathed a silent sigh of relief; this was the sign of immanent emergence from jump-space.

"All hands, this is the Captain; stand-by for emergence." Captain DuToit announced over the intercom. To an outside observer, a blue glow would appear, expanding to a bright blue patch of sky roughly the size and shape of our ship. Then the ship would appear, illuminated by the glowing blue lines of the energised jump-grid, which would gradually fade away. Our view screen showed a bright patch, growing until it covered the whole screen, then as this faded, we saw blackness . . . . speckled with distant stars.

"James" the Admiral said tersely, "what can you tell about the system?" I waited a moment before replying, letting the data from the sensors build up and project the result as a hologram in front of us. Admiral Chang had decided to arrive towards the zenith¹ of the unknown system rather than its nadir², by tossing a coin. He did this as he said "If anyone knows the way I think and tries to predict where we're coming on the basis of that, well, they're out of luck." Most ships jump to the plane of the ecliptic³ outside the 100 diameter limit of the target planet, making sure that they are also 100 diameters away from the local sun. We were jumping away from that in the hope that the pirates would be looking at the plane of the ecliptic for intruders, not elsewhere.

"Densitometer and infra-red reading coming in" I said, "There's the brown dwarf, 0.02 standard solar masses, absolutely classic. The surface temperature is about 500ºK, that means there's methane there and probably water vapour, so there should be ices on the planets. Speaking of those, there looks to be four and the nearest will probably be tidally locked. Admiral, my advice stands; I believe the base will be on the closest planet."

"Thank you, Mr. Beecher" Admiral Chang replied formally, "Captain DuToit, has the rest of the squadron arrived?"

"Yes Admiral" replied the Captain, "the squadron jump was successful. The _Springer_ and the _Anger_ arrived within minutes of us."

"Very well Captain DuToit" said the Admiral, "lead the squadron towards the innermost planet, best acceleration if you please."

"Aye, aye sir. At best acceleration our ETA is forty two minutes." The captain then turned to give orders to the bridge crew.

As Admiral Chang brooded on the situation in the holo-display Lt. Igadushta spoke to me on a private intercom channel. "Beecher, what happens if you're wrong about which planet the pirate base is on?"

"I'll probably be dismissed the service and may even end up in a cell" I replied.

"Oh." Lt. Igadushta paused for a while and then asked, "How will we be able to tell if the ships are on the innermost planet?"

"Heat" I replied shortly, "we know that the pirates land their ships as they want to conceal from their men, the fact that their base is orbiting a brown dwarf. They'll need to keep the ships at a reasonable temperature for the electronics and other systems. Against the cold background of the planet's dark side they'll stick out like sore thumbs."

"Won't we stand out as hot against the space background?" queried the Lieutenant.

"Yes, unfortunately. Whether or not we're spotted depends on how good a watch the pirates are keeping" I said, "the Admiral is gambling that in a supposedly secret base the watch won't be very good." Lt. Igadushta nodded and subsided into silence; waiting.

oOoOo

My stomach had knotted and I felt nauseous as we waited. When you're waiting time always seems to stretch but it had been about twenty minutes when a bridge crewman said "Twelve hotspots detected on innermost planet sir. One them is fuzzy, the rest point sources."

"Why is one fuzzy?" asked Lt. Igadushta on intercom.

"One will be the base" I replied "remember the prisoners said that it's buried underground. Unless the pirates have picked up more ships, that means only one of them isn't here. Let's hope it's not the flagship." Any remark the Lieutenant had been contemplating was interrupted by another bridge crewman saying that several search radars had been activated on the planet's surface. The pirates had spotted us. Lt. Igadushta swore, Admiral Chang remained silent.

"It's not over yet Lieutenant" I said, "the pirates won't have been running their power plants at full to save fuel and wear and tear. It takes time to ramp up to full power although a highly trained crew can take shortcuts.

_A/N¹ The zenith is roughly 'above' a solar system._

_A/N² The nadir is roughly 'below' a solar system._

_A/N³ Technically the plane of the ecliptic is the plane in which the Earth rotates about the sun. In the Third Imperium, and the earlier Vilani Imperium, the ecliptic is the plane in which the major world of a system rotates around its star. It is this plane which zenith and nadir are 'above' and 'below'._


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Lt. Igadushta and I watched the holo-display silently, leaving Admiral Chang to his thoughts. We could see that the eleven point heat sources were growing brighter when one suddenly flared up then grew dimmer. "What's happened?" queried the Lieutenant. The Admiral answered him.

"That Mr. Igadushta, is one of the pirate ships' power plants exploding as they tried, unsuccessfully, to emulate the skill and training of Imperial Naval personnel in emergency reactor operations. Or of scout personnel also of course" he added with a quick nod to me.

"Admiral, we will be in extreme weapon range in five minutes" Captain DuToit said in a calm voice.

"Thank you Captain" replied the Admiral, "you may fire when ready. Mr. Igadushta, instruct _Springer_ and _Anger_ to remain in our shadow, the pirates may think we're alone. If the pirate fleet remains together after they lift-off _Springer_ and _Anger_ are to watch our stern, firing on targets of opportunity. If the fleet scatters they are to act at discretion, but they are not to tackle the pirate flagship singly."

"Aye, aye Sir" said Lt. Igadushta who bent to his communication panel.

My job was over now and I felt superfluous as I watched the battle on the screens. Despite what most holo-vids show a space battle isn't visually impressive. Most modern weapon systems use directed energy beams which aren't visible in space; missiles are coloured black and you can only see their drive flares from astern. Fleet actions take place at such a range that when an enemy ship takes a hit it's only discernable on instruments.

I occupied myself by estimating when the pirate fleet would try to jump. They had now lifted-off as a group and were keeping together for the moment. For a safe jump the pirates had to have a very small amount of local gravity. Trying to jump inside ten diameters from an object was basically suicide; a catastrophic misjump with only a pile of debris emerging at the finish being almost a certainty. The odds on surviving grew progressively better as the distance from a gravity well increased; 100 diameters being considered a 'safe jump distance' which wouldn't put up your insurance premiums. The planet housing the pirate base was 8,000 km in diameter, getting 80,000 km away wouldn't be too much of a problem. The brown dwarf however was about 140,000 km in diameter and the base planet orbited at 1.1 million km from it. The pirates had at least 300,000 km to go to get out of the brown dwarf's lethal influence. We had a further distance to cover in order to to come up to them than they had to travel to be safe to jump, but we had had a running start which the pirates didn't. It would be close. The _Castro_ had started firing now and the pirates were replying; both sides were hoping for a hit that would slow down their opponents. The pirates would stand a better chance of some escaping by scattering, but they were still keeping together. "Why don't they scatter?" I hadn't meant to vocalise but Admiral Chang had obviously heard me.

"They don't scatter, James" the Admiral said, "because their leader is an utterly callous man. By staying together he reduces the chance of any weapon being targeted on his ship and thus maximises _his_ chances of escape."

"The other pirate leaders aren't stupid, they must realise this" I said, "what's keeping them from scattering?"

"The _Flayer_ – and what a ridiculous title that is" remarked Admiral Chang, "- may have threatened to open fire on his confederates, he may have installed remote controlled explosives on their ships or ensured their compliance by some twisted method I can't even envisage James. I've dealt with pirates many times; they are scum."

We had been hit many times by lasers, but the armour of the old _Castro_ was still thick and little damage was done. Our fire-control was obsolete and not in good condition but we had far more laser turrets than the pirates and they began to take damage. Fire from the pirates slackened for a short time although they must have realised that we had no spinal mount as such would have vaporised their ships long since. Indeed the _Castro_ was so old they may have had no idea what class of ship she was.

As the range between us continued to reduce I saw the displays come alive with incoming traces; the pirates had launched a swarm of missiles at us, hoping to overwhelm our defences and cause sufficient damage for them to escape. My heart sank as I saw from the designations on the display that all the missiles had nuclear warheads. If _Castro's_ elderly damping field failed the ship would be crippled and the casualties enormous.

Some missiles were destroyed by hastily retargeted lasers but most still came on. As they hit there were local explosions but no ship-wracking nuclear detonations. The old damper field had done its job and prevented chain reactions in the warheads. Now we were close enough for the fire-control systems to direct more powerful weapons. Streams of charged particles moving at just under light-speed hit the pirate ships and did terrible damage to their computers and electronic systems. The pirates' formation broke apart as ships veered and slowed at random; _Springer_ and _Anger_ closed in on vulnerable targets and wreaked havoc.

The range was such that instead of symbols the view-screens were showing the pirate ships themselves. My gaze was fixed on the Vargr-made pirate flagship and I saw glowing blue lines suddenly appear on her hull, the pirate leader was making a desperate attempt to jump before he had escaped the brown dwarf's grip. A yellow explosion blossomed just as the glow was at its height, whether caused by the ship's own overloaded systems or a hit by one of our weapons was uncertain. The pirate flagship disappeared into jump-space in the midst of a lurid blue and yellow glow.

oOoOo

And that really is it. The rest of the pirate ships were destroyed or captured; the base surrendered without a struggle; the missing twelfth pirate ship, a Vargr-designed freighter, turned up a few days later and was easily captured. Our casualties were light and I was pleased to meet once again in the wardroom, all of the junior officers I had met before. There was much rejoicing and as I'd taken the precaution of filling my suit's water bottle with scotch, a good time was had by all.

oOoOo

Later, on our return jump to Deneb we got to discussing the whole thing. The pirate fleet's very success worked against them; the more ships they plundered, the more powerful people they annoyed and the more resources utilised against them. Really their defeat was a matter of time. Even if the pirate leader survived, a most unlikely event, his reign of fear was over. Once his secret base was discovered his ace-in-the-hole was gone. Unfortunately none of the prisoners knew if pirate's rutter was merely a combination of several extant rutters or something more. All of the human captains committed suicide so we never found out if them all being Vilani was significant or not.

oOoOo

As I entered my quarters and closed the door, my vid-com screen lit up with Bwephulp's face. "Mr. Beecher" she said, "automatic data correlation led to the capture of the serial-killer the Usani strangler. He had travelled to Maelstrom and his identical _modus operandus_ was picked up by the computers. I have arranged a medical examination at 10:00 tomorrow to determine if you are still in good health after your exertions. It's good to see you back."

"It's good to be back Bwephulp."

**Fin.**


End file.
